Liquid Calculations

Through layers of flesh, answers are sought, a ribbon of red studied, a fragmented key, a fragile comparison. The anomaly that I have tried to conceal most of my life may well be bartered against what we need most, time.

I’ve never taken the serums, my access gained by heredity. I’ve never felt the pain, the force of transition from blood, bone and flesh. But I heard the screams. I witnessed the surrender of body to medicine and the agony of what it left in its wake forced a shudder from me that I would have never otherwise known.

I want to protect him. I want to be able to keep him in a bubble where the facets of reality can’t touch him. I realize that this is an impossible task, and yet, every time I look at him I know my world would be a less happy place without him in it.

I sat by the pile of furs that he slept upon, trying to sort out the few things I needed to do in my head before we were to leave the next morning. That is when I saw it.

The letter had been delivered late, probably when we were at the clinic. It was a letter I had been waiting for, the one from Therise. I was almost afraid to open it, not that such a fear would stop me. I had to know, either way.

Olivia was at the Cylinder Inn. All this time, so close and kept from me. And now, I was leaving, unsure how long I would be gone or even if I would return. I nudged Silas awake, so that he could keep an eye on August, and in the middle of barely moonlit night, I went to the inn.

It took some explaining and even a little pleading before I was allowed in to see her, but I did get that chance, to hold her, to whisper how much I loved her.. and to write another note to Therise. I spent an ahn watching my child sleep, before I returned home, at ease and ready for travel.

Kiss

I did not sleep. I do not sleep easily, kept awake by vicious whispers and taunting tones. So instead I walked, the few ahns until daybreak, coursing a path beneath the lonely flicker of street lamps.

I haven’t seen Olivia in some time and I had hoped to glean information from Madeline. She could tell me nothing however, it seems the Scribe has given her away. I felt saddened for her, for I am certain it is harder for a slave to be released from ownership than a free woman from a relationship. At least I was able to choose what came next and not have those choices made for me.

Disheartened that no news would be forthcoming, I made my way back to the shop, pacing back and forth on the street outside. I was trying to neatly place my thoughts in another slot, a slot that wasn’t corroded with the rust of despair.

That was where he found me, bedraggled and blustery in ink blot blue.

He’s taking the stabilization serums to try and stall the process.. of what is sure to come. The inevitable is a terrible thing, seen by the IV that hung loosely from his arm. I led him inside and tarried though one of Charming’s trunks, the trunk that held the black clothes that she had been required to wear when she was brought to me. I found one of her ribbons and wound it in a lacing manner around his arm, so that the tube would not catch and be pulled out. Just as I snipped the lengths of the knot, I told him I wanted to go with him on his search. Usually I am not so bold, but with the purpose of his journey, there was little time to be coy or calculating, neither of which I am very good at.

He tried to discourage me but I would not be discouraged. I had lived through a trek in the desert, certainly I could journey in jungles despite the dangers, and I countered every one of his reasonable concerns.

I hadn’t moved since placing the ribbon on his arm, a placement he took quick advantage of by closing in on my personal space. He was trying to rob me of my comfort. He was trying to make a point. He wanted to know my reasons. I told him the truth, that if I didn’t go, that I would always be forced to wonder if my being there could have made a difference.

It was a drag of mouth over mouth that contained the words of why should I care, and even though I didn’t return the exploratory kiss, I didn’t pull away either. Not that I could have pulled away very far, because his fist possessed a handful of red that was seeping through his fingers like liquid fire. When his tongue came into play, this time, I did respond, though slightly, to the electric current of his kiss, eyes wide open and intense with study.

He shoved me back away from him and I stumbled, but he immediately got what he had wanted, bridging our bodies with distance.

Sometimes there is a coldness that I exude, an orbit of emotion that lacks personal passion. It’s a barrier of safety, a figurative firewall that screams inside my head, warning me not to surrender. Bidding me not to fall.. or feel, because no good will come of it.

I was suppose to back down, he said. I should have backed down. He wanted to know what else awaited me in Schendi. Who awaited me in Schendi. I think I hurt his feelings.

I tried to explain myself.

I don’t do that well.

I took his reaction as a no to my accompanying him and I nodded. I would not push.

But that wasn’t his answer. I could go. But if I did not keep up, he would leave me.

A sobering statement that I had no reason to believe he didn’t mean.

I am going.
I am going.
I am going..

Palter

Being too eager to have faith in those who don’t necessarily deserve it is my grandest flaw. I am too susceptible to truths that do not exist, to whispers that mutate into maddening deceptions.

With touch, comes knowledge, but without it, one is always left in the dark, left to wander amongst the shadows and peek through the iron grail that separates fact from fiction. He is not mine, but simply an illusion of blood and bone, the largest lie of all.

I place no blame, I point no fingers, I play no melody of melancholy. That was a battle I lost years past and to revisit such sorrow would only be foolish and self destructive, a means to an end. No, not end, release.

Freedom has a price under any banner.

My Three Lives

It is said we all live three lives at once.

The first life is that of the past, lived through the fragile interpretation of memories. The second, our present, which is lived through actions, or in my case, evasive actions, and the third life is perceived by thoughts, hopes, wishes and dreams, desires which I’m seldom lacking in. It is the combination of all these things that helps us through the darker periods of our lives.

I am free, by the hand of someone I would have never thought, which is testament that we really never know someone simply by the perceptions we have of them. I am grateful to her and perhaps someday I can truly repay her for her bravery, if I ever see her again.

Charm has gone to the island to visit my mother, who had been writing me ceaselessly asking that she be allowed to come. Given what has happened of late, I could think of no better way to keep her safe.

Of late, I have found myself at the building that Chance had purchased, one that was once mine. It’s nothing save an empty, grassy lot now, the debris from the fire having been cleared. Twice I’ve inquired to buy it, but no one seems to know where he has gone, though on my last sojourn into the narrow alley I caught sight of a small sign on the building next. It’s mine now, another venture that I wasted no time in purchasing.

It’s bigger, three stories instead of two and it has a large balcony on the third floor. It needs work, but at least I don’t believe it will take too much coin to make it livable, which is a good thing.

Again I find myself the proud owner of property. I’ve always liked the feeling of having something that was completely mine, something that no one else could take away. I suppose it’s the stability that I crave, the need to be protected and safe, even if it is only by four walls and a ceiling. I’m learning. Slowly, but I am learning.

Some times life doesn’t put us where we’d hoped, but it always seems to put us exactly where we need to be.

Yes, safe. That’s where I need to be.

Ashes to Ashes

The future. It’s a word that I am familiar with, one I claim to know despite its ramifications. Seeing ahead though, is never the same as looking back.

There is always a certain amount of guilt associated with letting things slip by me. Maybe had I stayed and read for him after he agreed, things would have been different. Is it egotistical to think that maybe I could have had the power to changed it? I could have helped him, something he had asked me for, and I let him down.

The shop is gone, nothing left but charred timber and ash, with no sign of Chance whatsoever. Perhaps he, like the buildings that flanked its sides, was untouched by the kiss of flame, of this I’m sure, certain I would know if he was hurt. Or maybe I know this because the swing was untouched as well, that in itself is a symbol of hope.

Sometimes we just have to unlock life’s mysteries to harrowing questions on our own.

I of all people understand this.

I will miss him.

Light Me a Candle

He’s dead.

Not in the sense that he no longer breathes but by way of tragedy. He’s the only one left. He holds a secret, in the most unlikely of places, to the most unlikely of things. The vessel of flesh has its purpose.

Chairs dance and burners ignite. Candles flicker without consent. The flame color is elemental. Blue. People don’t see you when you don’t exist. Sometimes I think I’m dead too.

He doesn’t believe, not in the sense that I do. Not in a way that counts. A reason for everything he says. But all things are not rational. Science can’t trump faith. It’s never going to happen. He’s a stubborn man. I’m learning that I’m a stubborn woman.

And the rotters continue to disintegrate.

Buried mysteries, buried, not dead. Tokens, symbols of going against the white. Elaborate schemes.

I now hold within me knowledge shared. But who will I tell? The relieving of churning emotions, a chaotic cauldron of bubbling burdens that will never simply simmer.

Maybe this is why we have been brought together. A savior of sorts. A ghost that walks among men. A cure to what ails them.

Fire took a breath. Not Blue, but orange, and I was staring at it.

It’s not the cards, but me. Yes, I have heard it all before, the argument not new. And the whispers were growing louder. Times like these I think I might be insane. I wanted to read for him. They wanted to tell him something. He refused. He doesn’t believe. The candle would not sway.

Predestined power. We both have it, just in different ways. Tampered with. Destiny always delivers me into the presence of abnormal. And as fortunes servant, I always go willingly.

Everything is not cut from the cloth of rational thought. If it cannot be seen or measured, does it exist?

A transfer of touch, a fluttering of lash.
Tangible anger that reeked around me.
A clandestine coldness that forced a shiver from me.
Dominating images that played like moving pictures behind my eyelids.
Emotional pain.
Perceptive illusions.
Weakness, visibly and physically draining downwards, a puddle of flesh and bone beneath wrappings of blue.
Spilled cards.

A quick yielding kiss to cheek. Whispers. Passive Pleas. One mouth dragging over another. A promise to help.

I will read for him.

The afflicted are nameless.

The Crystal Door Knob

He had grabbed me and pulled me out of the way of raining roof tiles, His fingers curling into my upper arms. Even through the thin layer of fabric sleeves, I knew. I had not suspected, despite the signs, because, what I thought I had been looking for was not a man honed from bone and flesh. I was wrong…

I had returned as previously planned, though I’m not sure he was expecting me quite so early. She had changed much in the duration of time that I had been away. In two days the front of the building had a new façade, new double doors ready to be hung, the large window that had brought such warming light into its interior being replaced with two smaller, more narrow ones.

There were several men wandering about, working, laying brick, sanding the staircase, one laying on a scaffold and installing energy bulbs, he the one I gravitated towards, asking if the owner were about. I need look no further.

With his arms free, I could see the myriad of jagged scars that rolled into flesh. Scars, odd scars that I hadn’t seen before, and I have seen a number of scars in my time, but this was something that I could not connect to anything familiar.

I wasn’t liking all the changes. I’ve never been one much for reform, in anything, and though I could see the need for transformation, it was still a hard pill for me to swallow. But despite my opinion, I could fee her coming alive again under his hand and lay of careful plans. She’s not mine, but I’m still a part of her.

Panic. Horror. I’m not sure why I chose those modes of emotion, but when he told me he wasn’t going to live there, that he was going to rent the top floor out.. .to strangers, I could feel my composure crumbling. I could feel the clench in fisted fabric whitening my knuckles and could imagine the fabric renting beneath my grasp. I’ve often held spirits in inanimate objects, especially houses. But this house was special and I felt as if it was being disrespected. I could already feel an argument bubbling to the surface, one I knew I had no right to, but my compulsion to protect was not allowing me to think clearly. After the offering of water he escorted me to the back of the building where we could breathe better without the rallies of dust from the workman within.

I had been debating with myself on the best way to handle the situation, but the only solution I could come up with was to rent the upstairs myself. An offer that had a whole new set of consequences.

They didn’t know we were there, the men on the roof peeling back the tiles that needed to be replaced. He responded much quicker than I could have, or did, forcing me out of the way of heavy falling objects.

Touch. A long time ago, it was a part of my curse, one that kept me from touching anyone. Sometimes I wouldn’t even need to touch them, if I just stood close enough, I could see flashes, pictures in my mind. Nothing that really made sense, because I had not been part of those memories, but this, this was different. I was there, in his head, seeing what he saw on our two previous encounters. It took but an ehn to sew the thoughts together, and I knew.

My immediate reaction was to run, but with every step back I took, he was countering it with a step forward, only stopping when he saw my distress, and of all things, telling me I was safe here.

But I’ve never been safe anywhere. Safety, it was a word of illusion, of smoke and mirrors, and had nothing to do with reality.

I knew who he was, and he knew I knew which didn’t make the knowing any easier.

I had no facts behind the images I had seen, so much like the whisper of cards, I often not understanding what they are trying to tell those I read for, unless they care to divulge. I am but a tool, an instrument, a vessel from which these.. un-normal happenings collect. A man shadowed in blue, a flame caught in some ordinance of time. I told him he wasn’t normal, a statement not meant to sound nearly as insulting as it probably was. I told him that I wasn’t normal either, the mystery of Fate and Chance only deepening.

I was drowning in inertia. It wafted around me like the honeyed scent of freshly pollinated flower. Empathy was easily felt now, even without the coercion of touch to bid it into existence. Things had reversed, now, with his backward step, mine moved forward.

How does one explain a common bond, the thread that attaches us to each other? The delicate lace web that catches us holds un until contact is made. I would be lying to myself if I said I am not drawn to him, though the intricate details of why have not yet been revealed.

Things were falling into place, if not answers, than the realization that we were both suppose to be here at this point in our existence. But he had turned the tides of my future path by giving me an ultimatum.

I can only gather that my answer was not exactly to his liking and he headed in the direction of Charm’s old swing, intent on tearing it down.

I was trying to peel back the petals of rational thought, resisting the urge to run after him and throw myself in front of it so that he’d not add it to the demolition. No longer mine. It didn’t matter how many times I said that, chanting it beneath my breath, I could feel my fingers clenching into the brown fabric of skirt, before the realization of an answer came to me. He could keep it; repair it for the children of his patients. I hoped he would agree.

We both should be there. Now. Something was commanding it. All the times I had come here, had I been, in some incredibly odd way, waiting for him? Like seeing the future while trapped in the present, knowing that someday I’d find him here, waiting.

With the push of his hand I was shoved against the wall, another tile from the roof barely missing us both. Something I believe he felt, rather than saw. Soon there was a rain of tiles, the workmen overhead unknowing of our existence just below them. It wasn’t safe for either of us to stand there, but that wasn’t only because it was a construction area. It was time for me to go.

There are few men that I feel comfortable with or trust. There is Castor, of course, the endless love of my life, a man who I would die for, a man who loves me in spite of myself and in spite of everyone else. There is Dor, who has earned my respect as a companion and father, a man I’m certain would never betray Gina. And then there is Chance, who I trust for reasons I can’t explain.

He punched through the wood of my purple door and gifted me with the glass knob. I suddenly understood the scars as new ones were made.

We have committed to finding a truth.

I have to know who he is.

The Purple Door

I found myself in front of the shop again, as I often do, saddened by the wear and tear of times ravaging touch. It holds the pieces of my past in stasis, my recollections wrapped up in a colorful butterfly’s cocoon of memories, each to be taken out and remembered as time allows.

The last time I had passed this way I had promised myself to find out who owned her now, and to see if perhaps I could make her mine again. But with so much discord in my life over the past few months, my priorities had been rearranged.

The purple door is faded now, the paint peeling and falling away in large chunks, the hinges that hold it in its wobbled state layered in rust. The last time I had been here, the door had still been locked, but now it looked as if urts were not the only ones using it as a living space.

I had managed to squeeze between the heavy half hinged door and the frame, trying to see a room which used to be my inner sanctum. I had loved it here. I had been happy here, if only for a short time. The floor was littered with debris, strewn with glass and bits of leaves, wood and furs, an animal’s treasure trove of hiding and building. I wished the haunted vacancy was mine once again.

I’ve always thought of the small two story building that resided behind an alley off the Great Square as a she, and though I had never named her, the welcoming aura that she exuded was definitely feminine.

I hadn’t expected to be caught in the act of investigation, but the whisper that hailed behind me in offering of help had my breath catching in misery with the knowledge I was no longer alone. I tried to turn, but my body was effectively wedged between the door and the door’s frame, my options limited. I could back out and chance running into him, or move forward into the darkened womb of the front room. Neither was a choice to my liking. I told him that I had once owned the building and that I had been curious. I then asked him to back away so that I could remove myself from my idiotic induced trapped. But instead of backing away, he closed in; admitting the place now belonged to him.

I am not a woman easily riled. The many years in the company of Castor had dampened any pre-destined proclivities of temper that might have manifested had he otherwise not been in my life. And when he reached up to extend his arm past my shoulder and shoved the door open, my decision was made to move forward as I heard the wood begin to snap. It was a decision I hoped I did not regret. He had called my home, or once home, a dump. And though it was true, the place in much need of repair, the word brought a stabbing pain to my heart, a pain that I tried to regurgitate in order to no longer experience its suffering. I was finding that I was having a hard time releasing what was once .. mine.

When I turned to accuse him of speaking ill of my house, I was quickly reminded by fleeting thoughts that the house no longer belonged to me. I could feel him staring at me, perhaps studying me as if I were some test bug under the magnification of a microscope, but as of yet, his features were shadowed within the hood of a dark, perhaps black cloak. Both Kurrost and the Assassin that I had read for in the Square, the one I was sure had sent me the threats forced me to believe that perhaps this was more than a chance meeting; I do not rely on coincidences.

The table was still there, laying in wait in front of the shattered window. I moved towards it, the blade of memories slashing in my mind. I touched the top of it and watched small fairy pools of dust set to a ballet of dancing flight, seen through the light of slatted shutters. I was trying to assemble my thoughts in some semblance of rational realization. I wasn’t doing so well, and so, to keep the conversation flowing, I began to describe parts of his new purchase. I ended with the a question though, if he might consider selling it back to me. He would not. But it did offer me to take whatever I wanted.

I could only think of one thing that was destined to be mine.

When he moved to the outside window and threw open the shutters, I backed away, my hand lifting to shade my eyes from the bright light. There was something oddly familiar about the man, a sense of deja' vu invading the miasma that tended to wrap around me. I was certain we had met before, but as of yet, I’d still not seen his face. He answered my question with another question. Not quite denial, but neither was it confirmation. I was sure we had though. I could feel it.

The shop sign over the door. I wanted it, my small memento of a time when I had been liberated and alone and had only Charm to worry about.

It was only when he was again held in the light of day, in retrieval of my request that I could see his cloak was not black at all, but green. A very dark green. But was it a caste color, or a color of choice? I had wanted to ask.

I thanked him for allowing me to have it and moved out the door, my arms wrapping around the dirty slab of wood and holding it against me as if were some sort of magical shield. Perhaps it was the anomaly of protection that had me turning around to face him again, so that I could ask a question, or rather, a favor. I wanted to come back, to check on the progress of her, my structurally sound friend built of brick and wood. He agreed, so long as I warned him in advance. So I did. I warned him that I would return in two days time.

His name is Chance, which I find ironic, and he whispers like me. And like me, there is something wrong with his voice, a catch of damaged vocal chords that perhaps never healed properly.

I think I should have asked for my purple door as well.

Life Goes On..

Charm and I have returned to Ar, alone. Back to our small cozy abode in the Great Square, the home in which I am most comfortable.

I miss him already and it’s only been a short amount of time. So, to keep distracted, I have started a remodel job in the shop. A new color on the walls, furniture and hopefully a painting I will have commissioned by an artist soon.

Life goes on. So much easier said.. then done.

Repercussions

Kain returned to us at last, his business with Phelps at an end for the time being. Even though he seemed anxious to see us, I could tell he was not completely happy at the fact we had left his home.

Charm was cranky, teething again, and I was at my wits end as what to do. He took over and calmed her down, giving her something to ease the pain. Who need a physician when one had Kain around.

He laid back on my couch, kicking off his shoes, but his rest was short lived. He found my couch to be anything but comfortable. An excuse to take me home, I was sure. I explained the situation and he promised to rectify it. I could only assume by this he planned on firing the cook. Even though I did not like all the pomp and circumstance, quite enjoying the tranquil essence my home had to offer, I agreed to return, though not right away.

"I do not explain myself to you. I will not ever explain myself to you.. especially not about a gift. Again this is not optional Astraea. Your choice.. you can do as I tell you. And enjoy what I offer. Or I can take you and Charm from this place and burn it to the ground. I will have my nanny care for the child and you.. I will make that little leather strap on your right arm.. very interesting for you."

I told him he had missed her birthday, but that we had celebrated in his absence. He seemed genuinely upset by this. He had thought it was today. I should have told him sooner. "We can celebrate today. Not many children get two birthdays in the same var. She's a lucky child. We're both glad you made the effort though, to return for her special day."

His reaction was immediate, fingers coiling around my throat, though they weren’t hard enough to choke. Not this time, though his anger was ripping through his outer calm. "I hate you for taking her away from me. And I swear to you if it ever happens again I will hunt ...you.. down.. "Please...don't make me do that." His hand dropped away and I stepped back, trying to regain my own composure. "I will be back. I am going to move Aneya out of the house, punish the slave and put his papers in your name. But I swear to you Astraea if you can not handle him.. I will be very upset."

I would forever be apologizing for my past mistakes. He would never trust me again, for love and trust do not go hand in hand. He loves his daughter, this I can clearly see, even if the love I have for him is muddied by temperance and attitude.

His hand entwined in my own, and I noticed the same leather thong that he had tied around my wrist, was tied around his own. Somewhere in that single action lay a commitment.

"Why do you wear it? Does it mean you belong to me?"

"It's a declaration of intent."

"What kind of intent?"

"Companionship."

I stopped asking questions at that point; sure he was amusing himself with more teasing games at my expense.

And so we three returned to a House filled with servants and slaves. He bid me to go upstairs upon our arrival, while he took care of other things, one of which I hoped would be the dismissal of the cook.

I had just gotten Charm fed and put down again, knowing Kain would expect me to be in his chambers when he returned. I did not, however, expect to see Leo being brought in and shackled to the floor in front of the couch.

"Do you know why I gave him to you Astraea?" His voice echoed from the edge of the bed. I hadn’t even heard him come in. "I wanted to show you why I like having dominion over you. Teach you what it's like." His hands whispered over my body, as his words were set to the shell of my ear.

Another covert game. One he plays so well. Insatiable man that he is.

There are times I despise his power over me, but in the same breath, I long for it, live for it. But could I display these same powers over another? I was dubious. He was insistent.

And I was soon to find myself shackled nose to nose with Leo, simply because my answers didn’t suit the questions Kain had asked.

Leo told me how to position myself so that I wouldn’t cramp and told me what to listen for in light of Kain’s return. I had asked him if he had been punished. He replied with a question, much like I do. "This is not punishment enough If you mean did he lash me.. no he didn't."

I hadn't really thought of this as being punishment.. until now. In my mind, it was just Castor being Castor. But I was glad he hadn’t been lashed.

"Does not being embarrassed.. does not being displayed hurt you?"

It did, of course, not that I would admit it to

“You have to understand him." Even now, after what he had done, I was making excuses for him. Love is truly blind.

I’m not sure how long I was shackled there, the two of us talking. But soon a slave girl returned to release us, limping. I felt pity for the girl, slave or not. She was suffering because I had sinned. Life can be so unfair.

He had taken Charm for an outing. I could only hope he’d sit fit to return her to me. I always feel as if he’s waiting for just the right moment to take her away from me for good, at a time when it will hurt me the most.

Why do I believe so furiously that it will be soon..

The Charming One

Charm and I have left the House and all that it holds dear to its heart.

A Chalet such as my lover’s house can not have two Mistress’ nor would I be talked down dot by one of its employee’s.

I had come upon the cook whacking my slave with a wooden spoon, a sight I was none too pleased with. I acted on impulse, demanding that he put her out immediately. It wasn’t on the fact she was smacking my property, but the fact she had talked down to me as if I were nothing more than one of Kain’s sluts.

Needless to say, Leo would not do it. Come to find out, he wasn’t exactly my slave as I had been led to believe. He belonged to Kain, who apparently would not like his cook.. put out.

So here we are back in the shop, celebrating my daughter’s birthday alone. I made it as special as I could, with cake that she dove into head first, and several little gifts that she did enjoy ripping open, after she got the hang of it. Of course when the gifts ran out, her expression changed to the darker counterpart that was her father, pouting furiously. Perhaps I do spoil her too much.

Gods and Mortals

"Burn it to the ground."

I had been avoiding the fact that I needed to go and see him. While a part of me wanted nothing more then to see him and introduce him to his child, another part of me was just as terrified to do so.

I should have known better.

I saw him coming down the street with his entourage, thinking it was now or never. I called out to him, as he passed me. I should have let him go.

All the men had stopped when I called out his name and suddenly I was at a loss for words. Small talk. After all we had been through, I could think of nothing to say.. but small talk.

"Something I can help you with Astraea? I haven't really any cause to stand in the street and jaw with you."

"No, I don't suppose there is. I'm sorry to have bothered you." I wanted to tell him then and there about his daughter, but with the eyes of the other men upon me, I knew I could not. So I simply turned and left, as he did. But I watched where he went. Gathering Charm, I foolishly followed. It seemed nothing would deter me from my path.

I should have debated this further before acting upon it.

My prodigy was wrapped in her favorite pink blanket, I following him to the café he settled into. I took a seat at the table across from his, turning Charm to face him. He’d know. I was sure of it.

I wasn’t sure he got the hint at all by the time he had risen and passed me, thinking it had all been a grand waste of time.

I sat there in the café for some time, trying to figure out what more I could have done to make it all right, but the answer was nothing. I was even, to a point, relieved that he did not want us. It would make life easier for Charm and me.

I bundled my daughter up again and walked back to my shop. The door was kicked in and Castor was waiting for me, none too happy.

"What was the point of this?"

Had I not been obvious?

"I expect an answer to my question."

"I thought you would like to see your daughter. I was trying to be.. discreet."

"You were about as discreet as a troupe of Kajirae set a blaze in the square." He paused. The calm before the storm. "You're rather foolish for coming back here. You're a run a way slave, who stole my child. You've told people I was dead and harbored my child and her criminal brother. So Again I ask you what is the point of all this?"

Slave? I was stunned at his words. Stung by the waspish way they were spit at me. "But.. you released me! And what would you have me say? That she is the bastard of one of the Initiates killers? I only wanted to protect her. I didn't know what else to do. I haven't seen you since the night she was conceived. As for Aiden, I would have thought you would want me to try and help him. He is your son, after all." In all this my voice had never risen, still trying to keep the conversation as quiet as I could.

"No..no I didn't. I did not return for you, that's far from releasing you. I am sure you're more than aware of that. I would have you here.. to say nothing. As you should have been all along. And if I were you I'd stop wasting the few words I had left on telling me things I already know. Aiden is my heir and you my possession. Had you known me at all as well as you thought you did you'd know that I would never have wanted Aiden anywhere around you or THE infant. So again, and for the last time.. I ask you what the point of all this was? What it appears to me is that you have brought the babe here because you've run out of options. Perhaps had hoped for some happy

reunion?"

"I already told you the point. I wanted you to see her. No more, no less. I want nothing from you, nor did I hope for any happy reunion. I make good coin with my readings. I'm even going to be the entertainment for the grand opening of a Scribe School. I just thought you might like to hold her, at least once. Had I known you did not wish it, I would not have.. pursued it."

"I wonder... How you're going to do that, while you're imprisoned." He pulled a startled Charm away from me, his men swarming over me. My stomach felt as if it was hitting the floor and an icy claw closed over my heart. Charm cried out what I could not and I released her quickly so that she wouldn’t be further distressed. "Please, you can't take her away from me. Please." Quiet desperation, it was all I had left.

"And why not? You took her away from me...it's only fair.." He turned and walked away, his next words pulling another startled gasp from me. "Burn it to the ground."

What happened next was a blur. I was taken in another direction, away from my child. I had forgotten what a cold callus prick he could be. A mistake I was now paying dearly for. I was stripped and thrown into a basement, one so dark and foreboding I could not see further then my hand. How long I lingered in my dark and dusty prison I do not know, but to me, it was an eternity.

"Miserable little thing aren't you?" He had come. I wasn’t sure he would. "Before you start by pissing me off, No I will not release you, you are in no condition to make any demands, no one will come for you as they do not know where you are, yes your shop was burnt down, and no you can not see your daughter, but yes she is fine. I think we should take this opportunity to have a little talk, hm?"

The ground rules were set.

"Yes." Compliancy seemed the bane of my existence.

"The child is mine, if you take her out of this city again...I will make her watch as I peel every hort of skin from your body. You will come to me on the second night of the hand alone. On the fourth night of the hand you will bring my daughter to see me. You are still very much my slave. If you lay with another man I will enslave him and send him to the pits. Are we clear?"

"Yes." Suddenly Ar wasn't looking as promising as it had a hand ago. I faded further back into the corner, if such were possible, the makeshift blanket, one I had found in my quick exploration of the basement, was pulled tighter against me. "I understand."

"Come here."

There was only a moment’s hesitation in my movement, brought on by the cold stiffness in my body, but soon I stood before him, hopeful that he was not going to kill me. Kain is a man that likes games and I never know what to expect.

He pulled me down to the steps to sit with him. "You do not miss me?"

I wanted to laugh. I wanted to scream. I wanted to pummel his chest until my fists broke bone and flesh, to find the heart that I knew must lay there beneath. I wanted him to kiss me, or kill me.

I had missed him, despite the fact that I currently hated him. He pulled me from the steps, I still with my urt eaten rence covering, and through what was obviously the main room of an inn, to his room. I kept my head low, strands of red hopefully covering my face. "Are you hungry?"

"No.But I'm sure Charm is. It's been awhile since I.. fed her." I was so full of milk I thought I would burst. "I would appreciate a bath though. A hot one."

"She has eaten, I have seen to a wet nurse for her while you are not with her. You will be with me the second night of the hand and she will be with me the fourth, two nights you will not be able to feed her."

I hated the thought of another feeding my child. Taking my place. My expression always gives me away, and so did it this time. He wanted to know what was the matter. I had no choice but to tell him.

"You took my child and you burned down my shop. I have no clothing and my daughter has what she is wearing. Can I ask where my cards are?"

"Well I would assume if I were you, they to be in the ashes... but as its going to be really hard to keep from you the fact that your shop is fine when I send you back there in a few hands. I would assume where ever you left them in the shop."

Relief. Charm and my home was fine. "No, there were on me when you had my.. clothing removed. Please, would you inquire as to their whereabouts and get them back to me." The connection of cards and myself could be very uncomfortable if they were displaced for any length of time.

"Ah..then, you will find them in the other room on the sleeping couch."

I bathed and he joined me. I’m sure he could tell I was nervous but it was a nervousness that quickly gave way to surrender.

"I do not wish to be a slave Kain, for that would mean my daughter is a slave as well. Though someday, she may be by way of cards, I wish to not rush that fate. Is that what you want for your child?" I was pushing the envelope. "Free me."

"You should have thought of that before you submitted to me.. You belong to me and I haven't the mind to ...Free you." He grabbed me around the throat, lifting me out of the water and pressing me against the wall. It was then that he took me, still angry, harshness showing in his every movement. He wanted me to pay for what I had done. He wanted me to suffer, both body and mind.

My hands wrapped around his, trying to pry his fingers from my throat, gurgling at the same time he pushed into my body. My eyes were fixed on the man who took me without offering, then closed, the clawing of my hands stopped, then dropping to my sides, palms pushing against the wall behind me. I had resigned myself to what was to be. As a slave I couldn't be raped, both of us well aware of such a fact.

"I won't ever let you again.." I suppose in some odd form, that was his way of saying he loved me.

He had known about Charm since I started showing. He had kept tabs on me, knowing when I left for Schendi. Even knowing where I was staying once there. He had not forgotten or abandoned me. He had merely kept his distance.

"Is this our happy reunion?"

"I would say that being between your thighs was a pretty happy reunion for me."

Death comes in many forms, be it by the svelte easy line of a sharp blade, or the cold calculation of a broken heart.

I did miss him. More than he will ever know.

Black on Black

The caste of black exudes an aura even when the colors are hidden beneath the toil of winter cloak. I have never been afraid of this questionable caste, I think, because I am not afraid to die. We live in violent times, where words must be guarded and actions must be as unobtrusive as the very air we breathe. There are nights I lay in my sleeping couch, wondering where the golden thread of my life will end, or how it will come about. Depressing thoughts, but it is these thoughts that allow me to treasure the here and now. To allow me to live my life to the fullest. Everyone should be so lucky.

The eve was late, a trio of moons hung high in the cold glitterati of night’s sky. The street was nearly empty, save me and another dark soul who was moving towards me. He was a man I had seen before and he recognized me as well. Though no names had been exchanged, faces are not soon forgotten.

Conversation came about, first the topic of my shop. It seemed to me that it was missing something. Then our talk turned to the cards. "Do you wish to know what the future holds? Do you see through a veil of blood Sir? Is your future .. clear?"

“You have read me. No one’s future is clear, Lady. You, above all, know this.”

"But you see, it is clear. The moment it is read, it is the clearest thing in the world. Of course, what you do after that point does effect whether or not the vision holds. We are all keepers of our own destiny, but that destiny is written, perhaps not in stone, but written indeed. Would you like the cards to tell a tale for you?"

“ I would.”

I had known he would since the ehn I had seen him walking down the street.

I read by the glow of streetlamps, and he was ever a rapt customer. The Slave Card. The Sardar. The Star. All cards of the major Arcana, which in itself is a rare thing.

He left me with a silver, even as I left him with words of advice. A fair exchange, if ever an exchange was made.

As Lost as Me

Ar has changed. Or perhaps its me who has changed.

I once found it such a city of excitement; I found joy in walking her streets. Every corner was a new world to be explored, to be touched, to be tasted. Now I find hesitation in the smallest things. I’m pained by worry.

But I am not the only one.

She looked to be a woman as lost as me, even though I think she would never admit to such a thing. If anyone had ever needed a divination of the future, it was she.

The Seven of Coins, reversed. A reflection and evaluation of the past. Failure. A woman pondering alternatives and questioning choices, a card that might have been for me as well. I knew the whispers to be correct when she paled. At first I thought she might run, to get as far away from me and my unordained harbingers as she possibly could, but her inner strength was revealed, or perhaps what I was seeing was pure stubbornness. Either way, she bid me to continue.

The Five of Wands. Fairness would not be hers.

The card of the Initiate, a card of education, belief systems, conformity and tradition. A woman who pursues knowledge and increases understanding. One who has identified a new world view, who is finding it increasingly harder to fit in. Spiritual practice, belief and worship. A card that had never been revealed to me in a reading before.

“You have not seen me. You do not know me.”

"I can be found there. My shop. It's called Fate's Fortune. If there is anything else you need, find me."

A silver was placed upon the face of the initiate, more coin then I could have made in an entire month. I thought she was about to leave, but then I heard her speak again.

“Do we weave the threads of our past to clothe our future? Have the Kings decided warp and whoof, texture and tone? Who decides our steps?”

"A wise question to ask, and one that is asked often. The cards are but a tool, and as they stand today, they might well fall tomorrow. Our destiny changed daily, contingent on the choices we make in the moment. You life is your own, as is your future. Tomorrow could find great difference then what the cards have wrought forth today. Nothing is written in stone. Change is ever constant and often volatile. You are not a believer, but it shall be."

She had left an impression on me, as I may have upon her. Perhaps I will find my lost Ar after all.

A Journey of Fate

As much as I would like to blame Lucien for my return to Ar because of the offered job, I find I must return for reasons of my own. I cannot hide from Kain forever and certain things need to be resolved between us. I think it is he who is calling me.. home. I can only pray he understands why I did what I did. I hope that he can see the reason in my actions. A sane woman would run fast and far from the City I am about to go home too.

Sanity. Something I have never been accused of having.

A Moment of Weakness

I almost did the unthinkable today. I almost sought him out, revealing the fact that I carry his child. I did not, but the fact that I even wanted to was a sign of how weak I have become.

It is apparent now that I am indeed with child, thus shown by my sluggish movements and over tiredness. I need to start planning for the future, which I now realize can not be done in Ar. I have decided that I will soon travel, despite the fact of my ever growing predicament. I would like a small house of my own, away from the crowds that seem ever constant in Ar. Somewhere safe to raise my child, if there is indeed such a place in existence.

If it’s out there, I shall find it.

Aiden's Assurance

I had been cleaning the upper apartment when he found me, or rather, I found him.

He sat there against the wall, his head in his hands, much like a child that had no one else to turn to. No one but me.

Heavyn has kicked him out. They seem to have a communication gap that cannot be bridged. Aiden thinks he wants one thing, while she wants another. She wants him to companion her, but she does not desire children.

I poured him a glass of wine, as well as one for myself, though I knew I wouldn’t be drinking much. I tried to soothe him was hopeful words, unfortunately I’ve never really been very good at that. Perhaps in time, I told him.

I’m not even sure if it was Heavyn Lee who was the catalyst in his mood. He wanted to know about his father. He wanted to ask me questions about Castor, a name that has always been a subject we have tried to avoid in the past. Did I really love his father? I had to tell him the truth. I did. I loved him with everything that I was.

Maybe it is that he constantly compares himself to his father and feels he comes up short. I know that Castor will never companion me. Not even now with the child I carry. I’m not even sure I’m going to tell him, for such information would only give him more things to worry about. Of course, if I stay in Ar it would be quite obvious. So what do I do? I shall have to make up my mind soon. I told Aiden I would never leave Castor, but for the sake of my unborn child, is that a wise choice?

He is still so young, my sweet Aiden, so unassured and so hard on himself. I find I want to protect him from the woes of the world, I want to spare him pain and I wish to see him thrive. But these are things that are not within my realm of control. They never have been. Perhaps if I penned a note to his mother.

He wants to companion his Heavyn Lee, I can see it in his eyes. He loves her, I have little doubt of that. He doesn’t understand her, but of course, neither does he understand me. I’m not sure any man understands any woman.

I suggested that he talk to her again, and even as we spoke of the woman he loved, he kissed me.

Father or son, I can deny neither.

A Secret Key

We met, as planned, at the store that I have since purchased. True to his word, he brought both fur and lantern, as well as food. And I gave him a key to our secret place.

But we did not stay. Aiden it seemed had other plans and soon we found ourselves in a House with a bad reputation.

He’s changed. But then, so have I. Neither one of us are the innocent we once were. Sad, but I suppose it happens to us all sooner or later. We had talked of his visions, his mother, his woman. I now realize what his mother said was true, we need each other.

He did not want me to be alone anymore.

I wonder how long I’ll have him before he’s taken away from me again.

We’ll meet again, soon. I can feel it.